


Acting for Shapeshifters

by olga_godim



Category: The Others - Anne Bishop
Genre: Gen, Novelette, Original Character(s), Urban Fantasy, anne bishop, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olga_godim/pseuds/olga_godim
Summary: Tansy Margolis is an actress, not a hero. But when she discovers a wounded Panthergard girl on her patio, she has to act, before her beloved Sparkletown is destroyed by the Others.This story is a fan fiction novelette from Anne Bishop's World of the Others. The action takes place in Sparkletown a year after the Great Predation.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Panther on the Patio

Tansy closed the script and stretched lazily. She had already memorized her lines, but it never hurt to read them one more time, even though the next episode of her sitcom _Coconut Boulevard_ would only start filming in two days. She should give herself a holiday for the next two days.  
She sprang to her feet and skipped to her hat closet. Her character, Mazel, wore different hats in every episode for the past five years. Almost a hundred episodes, although the hats counted less than that. Some of the hats had made a repeat appearance after a year or two. The hats were her signature, to emphasize her empty head, and Tansy collected the hats. They belonged to her, not the costume department. The hats sported ribbons and beads, fruits and flowers. She put one on—a ludicrous purple fascinator, decorated with feathers, faux amethysts, and a huge bow, and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Nice. This would be the right hat for the next episode.  
Behind her window, already darkened with the approaching night, the autumn rain beat a faint staccato on the roofs and patios of her coop. When the other sounds intruded, she didn’t recognize them at first. They were so alien in the peaceful evening, she thought one of her neighbors was watching a thriller, and the audio escaped through an open window. Running feet. A shout. A gun shot. Another gun shot.  
Then something heavy thumped down on her patio. Tansy flinched. This was not a TV thriller. There was no music, no tense, anxious tunes of the strings, nor the breathy sax trills. No, these shots didn’t come from any TV show. Someone was shooting a real gun outside her apartment.  
She squeaked and rushed to turn off the light. Could the shooter still see her? She pressed her back to the wall in the darkness and listened intently. Did they throw something over the fence of her patio? Something stolen? A contraband? That couldn’t be happening, not to her. She was a law-abiding citizen of Thaisia, a moderately famous actress in Sparkletown. She couldn’t be embroidered in crime.  
The clomps of running feet receded towards the entrance of the coop. Should she see what was on her patio? Or should she call the police?  
She stepped towards her phone on the other side of the living room and froze, when her feet started tingling. Drat it! The tingling feet were her tell. Every intuit had a different tell. Hers was the tingling feet. Just to check it, she made one more step, and the tingling turned painful. She winced. No, she shouldn’t call the police. She never disregarded her tell. But should she check her patio herself? She didn’t want to get involved in any shady activity.  
Daring greatly, still in the dark, she tiptoed to the sliding door to the patio. The tingling stopped. Reciting all the swear words she knew under her breath, she pushed the door open and stepped into the drizzle. A huge pile huddled on her patio, between her flowerpots and the door. Another step, and the pile took form. An animal. A panther probably, its fur spotted.  
Tansy almost screamed when further details came into view. A dark puddle spread on the flagstones of the patio under one of the panther’s hind legs. And one of her front legs sported a human hand. A shapeshifter, a wounded shapeshifter lay on her patio, unconscious.  
Tansy stared. She had no words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before a whisper emerged. “Wake up, please. What are you doing here?”  
The panther didn’t reply. Probably hit its head on landing; the patio fence was quite high.  
What should she do? When her doorbell interrupted her frantic ruminations, it was almost a relief. She went to answer the door.  
The young man at her door looked reedy and nervous, his dark-red windbreaker shiny with dirt and moisture. “Ma’am, we’re chasing a criminal. You didn’t see or hear anything suspicious?”  
“A criminal?” she shrieked. “Oh, no!” Her hands quivered. She didn’t have to pretend her fear; her panic was quite real. “I heard the shots. I thought I should call the police. Are you the police?”  
Her hesitated a moment too long before saying, “Yes.”  
He was lying. She was a good actress and she knew bad acting when she saw it. She couldn’t tell him about the shapeshifter on her patio, but if one of his pals lifted himself over her patio fence, they would see the panther. Already, a couple of other guys were talking to her neighbors; she could hear a faint murmur of voices across the pass-way. They were going door to door in search of the panther shifter. She needed to get rid of this guy and get the panther out of her patio. Inside her apartment. As soon as possible. Sooner.  
The prospect made her dizzy with fright, but then her acting training took over, and she channeled her role, the scatterbrained Mazel, into her next exchange. It was the only way to get him to back off in a hurry.  
She grabbed the man’s windbreaker in both trembling fists before he could step away. “It’s terrible,” she gasped. “Please, officer, you have to catch him. He’ll killed us all. Oh, please …” she pulled him closer and whispered into his filthy, sweaty neck. “You have to save us, officer.”  
“Yes, yes.” He hastily pried her hands off himself and stepped away. “We will, of course, ma’am. Don’t worry.”  
He beat a hasty retreat, and she closed the door in satisfaction. Phase one of her plan accomplished. Then she rushed back to her patio for the phase two. The panther was still there, still unconscious.  
“Damn you. You need to get inside, before they find you here,” she hissed. “I can’t carry you. You’re too big. Please, wake up.” Tansy had never seen a shapeshifter up close, never mind touched one, and now she had this complication. The creature was much bigger than a regular animal, and even wounded, it was beautiful. Almost crying from frustration, Tansy crouched beside her uninvited guest and shook it gently. Its fur was short and silky. And wet. It didn’t wake up.  
“Fine.” Tansy straightened and stomped back into her apartment. She rummaged in her walk-in closet for her folding cot, extracted its narrow mattress, and went back outside.  
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” she muttered as she rolled the heavy, unresponsive body onto the mattress, and dragged the mattress over the slight bump of the threshold into the apartment. Then she slid the patio door shut, pulled the curtains closed, and puffing from exertions, studied her new roommate. The mattress was already turning red under the wounded thigh. She needed to bind the wound, and for that, she needed light.  
Tansy swallowed her unease. She already knew she shouldn’t call the police. How about an ambulance? She wasn’t a medic. She didn’t know squat about gunshot wounds. What if the bullet was inside the wound? She took an experimental step towards the telephone again, and her feet immediately started buzzing.  
“I hate you,” she mumbled and reversed her steps towards the bathroom for her first-aid kit. After binding the wound, she dropped down on the sofa, a couple yards away from the now grimy mattress, and studied its occupant. She could do nothing else, until the panther woke up and took the human shape. And talked. What if it couldn’t talk. Not all shapeshifters could manage human speech. Or so she had heard.  
More to the point, what did a shapeshifter do in the middle of Sparkletown? It was a human-controlled city, and even after the Great Predation the previous summer, not much changed here. That horrible political movement, Humans First and Last, that had resulted in so many deaths in the East and Midwest of Thaisia and the complete annihilation of the Cel-Romano Alliance of Nation, didn’t have many adherents in Sparkletown. Who were those people chasing this gorgeous panther shifter?  
Pointless speculations, she told herself firmly. She would wait until her guest woke up. Hopefully, it wouldn’t kill her on site, but as Tansy’s feet didn’t tingle, she decided it was unlikely. She put a spare pillow under the panther’s head, covered it with her spare duvet, and put a bottle of water within easy rich of the mattress. Her guest made as comfortable as possible on the floor—Tansy couldn’t lift it to the sofa anyway—she poured herself a glass of medicinal cabernet and went to bed.


	2. Morning After

In the morning, she didn’t even remember the surreal events of the previous evening, until she left her bathroom, still half-asleep. Her eyes stumbled on the mattress on the floor in front of the patio door. Instead of a panther, a young woman gazed up at her, her eyes golden yellow and wary.  
“Oh, hi,” Tansy said weakly. “Good morning.” She attempted a smile. “I’m sorry I left you on the floor. I couldn’t lift you to the sofa. You were too big and … a panther.” Even human-shaped, her guest was bigger than she was. “How are you?”  
“Hi,” the girl on the floor said. “I don’t remember. I was running from … bad people. How did I get here?”  
“You were wounded. Someone shot you. I guess, you jumped into my patio, but you were unconscious when I found you. I … dragged you inside on the mattress.” She shrugged. “Probably shredded the mattress on the bottom,” she added regretfully.  
“Sorry,” the girl said. “You saved me.”  
“Maybe. Those goons canvassed door to door after the shooting, asking about a criminal, but I doubt you’re a criminal. I’ve never heard of one of the shifters being a criminal. I didn’t tell them about you.”  
“No,” the girl said. “Not a criminal.”  
“Do you want to sit or lie on the sofa?” Tansy came closer. “It would be more comfortable than the floor. Or I have a guest bedroom. I wasn’t sure if you needed a doctor for your wound.”  
She contemplated her guest. The shifter’s short fair hair was threaded with darker patches, as if mimicking her fur. “Did the bandage I put on you survive your shifting?”  
The girl grinned. “No, but the wound doesn’t bleed anymore.” She pushed away the duvet and stood up in one lithe motion. She was tall, lean, and naked. The gash on her thigh looked painful, even scabbed over, and dry blood streaked the skin around it.  
“Oh,” Tansy gulped. “Do you want a quick shower?”  
“Yes,” the girl said. “Thank you. I’m Samantha Panthergard. Sam.”  
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” Tansy nodded. “I’m Tansy. Tansy Margolis.”  
Samantha narrowed her eyes. “Margolis? You’re Mazel!” Amazement shimmered in her voice. “I love Mazel. Downstairs. In hats, right?”  
“Right.” Tansy smiled, flattered. A Panthergard recognized her from her television role. Despite her problematic situation and her unconventional guest, happiness bubbled inside her. “Yes, Mazel is my character. You watch _Coconut Boulevard_?”  
“I love it!” Samantha’s amber eyes sparkled. “I love your hats. I watch every episode. I want to be an actress too.” Her bright grin faded. “That’s what got me into this mess.”  
“Why don’t you take a shower, while I fix us breakfast?” Tansy pointed Samantha towards the bathroom. “Then you’ll tell me your story. You should probably put a fresh bandage on your wound. Here is a clean towel. Take your time.”  
After Samantha limped into the bathroom, Tansy studied her wardrobe. None of her clothing would fit the larger woman. A panther shifter. Tansy shook her head in disbelief and got a sheet printed with cheerful yellow daisies from her linen closet. That should suffice as Samantha’s attire for now.  
Over their breakfast of eggs and toast, Samantha, wrapped in Tansy’s sheet, related her misadventures.  
“I have a human-centric education, went to a special school,” she confided while shoveling the omelet into her mouth.  
She must be starving, Tansy thought as she nibbled on her toast with grilled cheese.  
“When I was a cub,” Samantha continued, “I wanted to work in a Courtyard, as a liaison with humans, but most Courtyards here, in the west of Thaisia, are staffed with vampires, and we don’t always get along. When I grew up, I decided I wanted to be an actress, to act in a _terra indigene_ movie. I watched all the Wolf Team movies, but they are about Wolfgard. Then I found this ad in Sparkletown Herald. Do you have any burgers?”  
Tansy sighed. She had heard that _terra indigene_ regarded humans as meat, edible, especially if provoked. Watching Samantha devour her food was disturbing. What if the panther girl wasn’t happy with eggs? What if she was still hungry and wanted meat? Would she eat Tansy? She shivered.  
“I don’t eat much meat,” she said quietly. “Don’t buy much. I was going to get some chicken tonight.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hurriedly.  
Samantha lifted her eyes, her animation gone. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you. You saved me last night. We know gratitude. Thank you.” She pushed her empty plate away. “Those people with guns though.” Her expression turned cold. “They are meat.”  
“Eew!” Tansy retreated into her hostess’ role. “Uhm. Coffee?”  
“Yes, please,” Samantha said.  
They both sipped their coffee in watchful silence, until Tansy recalled Samantha’s inexplicable words. “What ad in the Herald?”  
“It said they are auditing shifter actors for a movie. The address was not far from here. I went, but it was a trap. Stupid me. They almost caged me. I fought and escaped and ran, but they chased me with guns.”  
“Oh, dear,” Tansy whispered. “An ad in the Herald?”  
Samantha nodded grimly.  
“Were there other shifters?”  
“I don’t know,” Samantha said. “I didn’t see.” Her hands around her cup shifted. Fur sprouted over the skin, and the nails elongated into claws. She lifted her cup to her mouth, but the predator’s fangs appearing in her mouth interfered, clinking against the porcelain. She started and looked down at her clawed paws in surprise, as if she didn’t realize she was in the process of shifting.  
Tansy sat very still, afraid to move. Afraid to swallow.  
It took a few moments for Samantha to assume the human form again. She didn’t meet Tansy’s eyes until she looked fully human once more. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I got angry with them. They might’ve hurt some other shifters, and I didn’t even think to check. I just ran. Don’t be afraid of me. Please. I admire you.”  
Tansy let out a breath she had been holding and nodded. “I wonder,” she said. “Would humans and _terra indigene_ ever live in peace? We are so different. What do you see when you look at me? Do you see food?”  
“No,” Samantha said, but her denial didn’t look or sound convincing. “What do you see when you look at me?” she countered. “Those gunmen—they saw an animal. They said so.”  
“Those gunmen were armed hooligans,” Tansy spat. “I don’t see an animal in you. I see a person. An aspiring actress. But your people … When those Human First and Last goons made trouble last summer, you guys killed everyone, not just the guilty. You killed children who didn’t harm anyone. The whole towns disappeared. Old people. Sick. I read the papers.”  
Samantha put down her cup, half of her coffee still untouched. She stared down into the brown liquid, as if searching for answers.  
“What will happen to Sparkletown, if that fake movie company hurt someone else?” Tansy asked. Suddenly she was furious. “Some other shifter you didn’t notice, one they already caged. Will your Elders come here and reduce this city to rubble in retaliation, as they did in Cel-Romano?”  
“I don’t know,” Samantha said, still gazing into her coffee.  
“Perhaps I should check it out. Maybe save someone else. My next episode will start filming the day after tomorrow. I’m free for today and tomorrow. Where is that address?”  
“You can’t go there by yourself,” Samantha said in alarm.  
“Why? I’m human. They wouldn’t cage me. Those idiots! Wasn’t Cel-Romano enough warning for them? Imbeciles! They would get us all killed. I have to do something. I should call he police.”  
Mad at everyone, Tansy pushed away from the table and marched towards the telephone … and almost fell, as sharp stinging bit into her feet.  
“Oh, bother!” She stopped. No police. She forgot. Maybe one of those ruffians was a policeman. She dropped on the sofa, lowered her face into her hands, and screamed into her palms, putting all her trained voice’s capabilities into the bitter wail. Tears stung her eyes.  
“Tansy?” Samantha squatted in front of her. Her tentative fingers, fully human, touched Tansy’s hand lightly. “I’ll help. I don’t want this town to disappear. I want more _Coconut Boulevard_. More Mazel. I like movies. Please, don’t cry. I wouldn’t let anyone eat you, I promise.”  
“Argh!” Tansy snarled, but it was half-hearted at best. Her vexation had already burnt out. She could never maintain her pique for long, although her lips still quivered. Deprived of the release of righteous anger, she started laughing instead. After a moment, Samantha joined in.  
“Fine,” Tansy said finally. “But I still think we should check out that place. Seriously. Someone else might need saving. After I clean up here.” She headed to the kitchen. “And you need some clothing, Sam, if you’re going to stay human. Are you, or do you want to shift back into a panther?” She started putting away the remaining food. The cups and plates went into the sink.  
“I fight better as a panther.” Samantha wrapped her sheet with daisies tighter around herself. “I was wearing clothes, but they asked me to shift, said they wanted to see my other form, so I undressed,” she said sourly. “Silly me. My clothes might still be there.”  
“There is a second-hand store nearby,” Tansy said. “I can drive over there and get you some jeans and a sweatshirt. Sneakers. I’m good at guessing sizes. It’ll only take me half an hour.”  
“Thank you.” Samantha lounged in the kitchen doorway, while Tansy washed the few dishes from their breakfast. “Why didn’t you call the police? You wanted to, and then you didn’t.”  
“I don’t think the police is a good move at the moment,” Tansy said.  
“Why? You can’t go against their guns by yourself. Even with me, we would be overmatched. There were five or six of them. Do you have a gun?”  
Tansy shook her head. “I’m an intuit,” she said reluctantly. She had been trained by her parents not to admit being an intuit to anyone, but that dictum probably didn’t include shapeshifters, just other humans. “I felt it was a bad idea to call the police.”  
Samantha wrinkled her nose. “I thought intuits lived in small communities. They have agreements with the _terra indigenes_. I thought they couldn’t live in big cities.”  
“They can. The trick is not to tell anyone that they were intuits. In the past, when some too-honest intuits told their neighbors about their feelings, it proved to be fatal for them. Those stupid neighbors considered the intuits witchy or evil or whatever. Murders happened. That’s why most intuits withdrew from the human cities. But not all of us like to live in villages in the middle of nowhere. My family are all artistic. My brother works on radio. My mom is a set designer. My cousin is a musician. I’m an actress. Not much use for such professions in a small village. Both sets of my grandparents settled in Sparkletown years ago, when they were kids, and none of us ever regretted it. We all listen to our intuition, but we only share with family, and we all do fine.”  
“And your intuition told you not to call the police?”  
“Yes.” Tansy turned off the hot water. “Once, about six years ago, I was at loose ends. No roles, no nothing. Then I got two different auditions on the same day and couldn’t decide which one I wanted more. My intuition led me to the audition for _Coconut Boulevard_ , and I got my Mazel.” She grinned.  
“Wow!” Samantha said.  
“I’m off to buy you clothing and some extra food. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t answer the phone or the door. Pretend you’re not here.”  
Samantha snorted. “Where would I go in this?” She stuck a finger in the middle of her chest, between two bright daisies winking off the ridiculous sheet. “People would laugh at me. Unless I shift, of course.”  
“No. Not in this city. They won’t laugh. They’ll think you’re filming a movie. You look like an exotic princess, sort-of. You only need a tinsel crown, and maybe a sword.”  
She regarded Samantha critically. “Or a plastic snake. But perhaps not in this sheet. Something sparkly. Red spandex with sequins and some lurid bracelets. Yeah! And a crown, of course. With faux rubies.”  
“I don’t know if I should bite you or laugh it off,” Samantha grumbled.  
“Welcome to Sparkletown,” Tansy said. “Read more of the Herald. There might be other interesting ads there.” She pointed at the stack of latest newspapers on her coffee table, stuck out her tongue at Samantha’s growl, and danced out the door.


	3. Rescue

When she returned forty minutes later, lugging a bag of clothing for Samantha and a selection of frozen dinners, Samantha wasn’t there. The sheet lay crumpled on the sofa, and one of the Herald issues spread open on the coffee table.   
“Bird-witted cat!” Tansy snapped. Her eyes scanned the open paper. An ad glared back at her, circled by a red pen, impossible to ignore. It mentioned a movie, shapeshifters, an audition, and an address. The date of the audition was set for today, from ten to one. Tansy glanced at her watch. A quarter past noon.  
“It’s a trap!” she yelled at the sheet, shaking her fist at the helpless daisies. “You know it’s a trap. What are you doing rushing into danger by yourself?”  
She shouldn’t have gotten involved at all. She should’ve called the Courtyard at the onset of this disastrous caper and let the Sanguinati deal with the gun-toting thugs and the impulsive panthers who risked their lives for no reason. Now, she would have to go alone to that scam movie company and rescue Samantha again. Plus, whoever else those sham, shifter-hating moviemakers had snared.   
She shoved the frozen dinners into her freezer and threw the no-longer-needed bag of clothes to the mattress, still sitting in the corner beside the patio door.  
Should she call the Courtyard now? She stepped towards the telephone, and her feet tingled. No surprise there. “Drat! Drat!” she mouthed, stepping back. “Why should I do it all alone?” Even her brother wasn’t available today; she would’ve conscripted him to her aid, but he was out of town, on assignment in the northwest for his radio station. She was on her own. And she had to hurry. If those gangsters hurt Samantha or another shapeshifter, the Elders, those scary monsters she had heard about, might descend on her city en masse and destroy half of it, as they had done in Toland last summer. She couldn’t risk it.   
Cursing everyone and everything, Tansy turned in a circle. What did she need? She didn’t have a gun or any other weapon, except a Mace spray she kept in her purse. Didn’t know how to use a weapon anyway. In all the five years of filming _Coconut Boulevard_ , Mazel had never needed to handle a weapon, otherwise Tansy would know.  
She didn’t know martial arts either. Not much anyway. Once, two years ago, Mazel had needed some jujitsu moves in her dealings with burglars. The show writers wanted to spruce up the plot. Tansy had ended up training for several months to get her kicks authentic. Despite her best efforts, or maybe because of them, the viewers voted that episode the funniest in the series. Even the film crew had giggled as they filmed, and her instructor, a black belt sensei, groaned in despair when he watched the footage afterwards.   
She would have to rely on her wits and her acting to extract Samantha from whatever predicament she had fallen into. In the last moment, Tansy retrieved the bags of second-hand clothes she had bought. The thick-headed panther might need it if she switched back to human. “Addle-brained feline,” Tansy muttered as she stomped out the door. “I should feed her live rats, not gourmet dinners.”  
The street mentioned in the ad wasn’t far geographically from her coop, but it was on the next hill, and it took her half an hour to drive there. She stared in dismay at the building at the end of the cul-de-sac. It looked like a factory or a warehouse, abandoned by its owners years ago. Dirty chipped bricks and boarded windows didn’t associate in her mind with any movie company, and the scraggy palms on the other side of the narrow lane contended for space with the chunks of twisted metal, broken glass, and deflated old tires, before the desiccated land dropped off down the stony hillside. She couldn’t see anyone, not even a rat. Desolation and decay permeated the street.   
A motorbike, old and scuffed, was parked in front of the large double-door of the warehouse, but when Tansy parked beside it and tried to get out of her car, her feet started prickling so fiercely, her knees buckled. Wincing and cataloging complex obscenities, she got back in the car and drove around the building, where she parked behind a rusted dumpster. This time, she left the car with no problem.   
A narrow door in the corner of the warehouse opened with a loud creak. The owner of that bike at the front was definitely going to hear her enter. What was she going to tell him? She would wing it, she decided, something about the ad in the Herald and the audition, depending on who he was. Hopefully, he wouldn’t shoot her first and ask questions later.  
Her heart beating like a metronome, she strode inside, following a dimly lit passage between stacked wooden crates.  
“Marc, is that you?” The hoarse baritone seemed faintly familiar.  
“I’m here about your ad,” Tansy called back as she rounded a corner in the crates-created landscape of the warehouse. A bizarre tableau unfolded in front of her.   
Several cages large enough to hold a bear formed a loose semicircle under the only powerful lamp in the building. Two of the cages were occupied. One had a young naked woman slumped on the floor, unconscious or asleep. Her head featured long, mottled gray feathers instead of hair. Similar feathers but in a darker hue sprouted from her pale, freckled arms and hands.   
Another cage housed Samantha in her panther form, or at least someone who looked like Samantha. When Tansy stepped into view, Samantha sprang to her feet from her reclining position and growled ferociously, but Tansy didn’t have time for the panther’s theatrics. Her attention zeroed in on a young man in the middle of the semicircle of cages, near a square plastic table full of stuff: water battles, empty food containers, a gun or two, dirty cutlery, a couple of dark batons, some books and notebooks, and an incongruously bright pile of fabric, a hoody or a coat. Samantha’s original clothing?  
The man held a pistol in his hand, aimed at Tansy, but the expression on his face was a mix of surprise and dread. He obviously recognized her. “Miss Margolis!” He gulped.  
She recognized him too. He was a tech with the camera crew on the _Coconut Boulevard_ set. They had chatted a few times in a snack room. He was younger than her, just a few years out of high school, but he seemed a nice boy, and it was a shock to see him here.  
“Dean?” she asked faintly.   
“What are you doing here?”  
“I read an ad in the Herald about auditions.” Tansy couldn’t take her eyes off the gun in Dean’s hand.   
“It was for the shifters. For beasts.”  
“I didn’t know,” Tansy said quietly, editing her upcoming performance for his benefit. “Our series is going to get canceled soon. Probably at the end of the season. Have you heard? I’ve been doing some auditions lately.”  
“Oh?” he said.  
Tansy frowned at his gun. “Are you going to shoot me? Is that how these auditions go? Shoot the competition?”  
He squinted at the gun in his hand as if he forgot it was there. “No, no. Of course, not.” He hastily adjusted the safety and carefully put the gun in his pocket. “But it’s not really what you think.”  
“So I gather,” Tansy said dryly. She could breathe easier now, with the gun out of the equation. “I’m not sure what I think. Doesn’t look like any audition I’ve ever been to. And these _terra indigene_?” She nodded at the cages. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on here?”   
“Uhm,” he stalled.  
She glanced around. Dean seemed to be the only man in attendance in the warehouse. The five or six others Samantha had mentioned earlier were not apparent. She should wrap up this scene as quickly as possible and get out with Samantha and the unknown feathered girl before Dean’s friends arrived with more guns and the status quo deteriorated beyond salvation.  
“Are you alone here?” she asked softly.  
He cleared his throat again. “The others went to get dinner. I’m the guard.”  
“Ah.” She nodded sagely and waited. Silent pauses always worked well on TV.   
“We’re doing it for the humans of Thaisia. Of the world,” he finally said. “The guys in the Human First and Last movement were right. Humans need to make this world their own, don’t you think?”  
“Of course,” she murmured.   
“My grandma lived in the Midwest, in a retirement home. One of those towns that disappeared. She didn’t hurt anyone. She walked with a walker. She was eighty-six.” His eyes burned. “Now, we don’t even know where she is buried. No grave, no nothing. Why did they kill her? Did they eat her old body? I doubt it was tasty.” His lips tightened.  
A tremor ran along Tansy’s spine. Her heart ached for the boy. Stupid, misguided boy. She didn’t agree with the Human First and Last movement and its murderous goals, but what Dean was talking about was horribly wrong too. On all levels.  
“They rushed things last summer, Miss Margolis,” he went on. They wanted too much too soon. We’re going to be more careful, take our time, and do it properly. We don’t want more retirement homes to disappear. More daycares. We’ll prepare the ground, lull the beasts into complacency, and only when we gather enough momentum and supporters to be unstoppable, we’ll strike. We’ll destroy them all in one sweep. We’ll make this world our own!”  
His voice rose in volume along with his rhetoric. By the time he finished his spiel, he was almost shouting.  
Tansy’s stomach churned with conflicting emotions: fear, disgust, compassion. He was right and wrong at the same time. She couldn’t see the solution to this maelstrom of thoughts and feelings, to the vortex of hatred and despair. Only one course of action was clear to her: she needed to get Samantha out of here now.   
She forced her confusion down, pushing her chosen role back to the surface. “You’re so right,” she murmured as she closed the distance between them. “It’s a great plan. A brave plan. But why are you caging these monsters. And how did you manage that?”  
“We used a tranq gun on them,” he said.   
She traced his gaze to a large, odd-looking gun on the table. Before he could move, she picked it up. “I have never seen a tranq gun before,” she said, turning the heavy weapon in her hands. “How does it work?” She offered him the gun and watched him relax, his tension flowing out of him like water.  
“Oh, come on, Dean. You didn’t think I would shoot you, did you?” Her merry laughter tinkled like Mazel’s. “Well, maybe by accident. You know how I am with warfare. You were there during that martial art episode, weren’t you?”  
He chuckled, nodded, and took the gun from her. “You’re not an action actress, I’ll give you that, but you’re a great comic actress,” he said seriously. “I admire you, Miss Margolis.”   
Samantha had told her the exact same words this morning. Tansy wanted to squirm. It weirded her out to hear the same sentiment from the two such opposite people. She should be jumping with joy, celebrating her professional triumph, but she felt like crying.   
Oblivious to her distress, Dean embarked on the detailed explanations of how the tranq gun worked, giving her time to climb back into her role. The ditsy, bubbly Mazel—that was the ticket to handling this screw-up.  
“This gun is loaded with tranquilizer darts. See?” He showed her. “You squeeze the trigger here, and a dart flies into your target. The drug is very potent too. Even the panther dropped in seconds.” He sounded smug.   
Tansy forced a grin of her own. “How many darts does it hold?”  
“The full load is five. Two are still in. Enough for one more beast, but I guess not many of them want to be movie stars. Of course, we have more ammunition in storage.” Carefully, he put the gun back on the table.   
“And the animals?” Tansy pressed. She stalked towards the cages, and he followed. “How are you going to lull them into complacency if you capture and kill them?”  
“Oh, we’re not going to kill them,” he said. “This is just for money. We’re selling them as pets. Some rich people like exotic pets.” He stopped at the first empty cage, as far from Samantha’s cage as he could. “Don’t go near that panther. She might swipe at you. She’s crazy.”  
Disregarding his warning, Tansy walked past all the cages, circling the area, although she didn’t touch the bars. She only stopped on the other side of the semicircle and pivoted to face Dean.   
“That’s clever,” she said approvingly. “A revolution always needs money.”  
“Of course.” He preened at her praise. “We caught a couple more yesterday, a lynx and a wolf bitch, but the guys have already driven them to our buyers last night. Good money too. We almost caught this panther, but she escaped yesterday. I don’t know why she returned today.”  
“Maybe it was a different animal,” Tansy mused. “Can you distinguish one from another, if they are both the same basic animal?”   
“Not sure.” He shrugged. Before he could say anything else, she flounced back to the table. “Is it water? In the bottles. I’m so thirsty. Can I drink some?”  
“Of course.” He stepped towards her, but she motioned to the cage with the bird girl. “What kind of a bird is she?”  
“Huh?” he turned to look.  
While his back was turned, Tansy grabbed the tranq gun, pointed at his back, and squeezed the trigger. The dart didn’t hit him where she aimed, but it did hit him in the thigh. He gasped and glanced back at her. He looked bewildered. “What?” The question was already slurred.  
“Sorry.” She squeezed the trigger the second time. This dart hit him in the neck. Obviously, her targeting abilities needed more practice. Or maybe her hands shook too much. He moaned, closed his eyes, and folded to the floor.  
“Oh, boy!” Tansy sprinted to Samantha’s cage, leaping over Dean’s unmoving body. She scanned her surroundings. “Sam, where are the keys from the cages?” She felt jittery, her sense of timing screaming at her to run. To bail out now.  
Samantha flowed back to her naked human form. “On the table,” she said tersely.   
“The table, of course.” Tansy rushed back, her nervous fingers combing frantically through the debris, until she located the keys under the colorful clothing—a sweat suit. She brought both to Samantha’s cage, but it took her unsteady fingers three tries to open the cage. Now that the inane, Mazel-fueled conversation with Dean was over and she didn’t have to act, her sense of urgency was overwhelming. They needed to get out of here.   
“Get dressed,” she said while she toiled to open the other cage. “Can you carry this girl? Bird? What is she anyway? We need to move.”   
“Owlgard,” Samantha said. She was already dressed, and her orange and lilac sweat suit looked incongruous in the grim warehouse. She dragged the owl girl out of her cage, grunted, and draped her over her shoulder. “Do you have a car?”  
“Yes.” Tansy led the way back to the door. She noticed that Samantha’s feet were bare but didn’t think they had time to search for her footwear. “Be careful outside. Lot’s of broken glass there. I bought you sneakers, but they are in the car.”  
Samantha didn’t reply. She maintained her silence for several more minutes, putting on the sneakers and checking out the other clothes in the bag, while Tansy navigated the narrow roads twisting up and down the hills.   
Finally, Samantha stirred in the back seat. “I thought he convinced you,” she said quietly.   
“I’m a good actress,” Tansy said. “You shouldn’t have left without me.”  
“Maybe. We need to save the other two, the ones they already sold.”  
“I think you need to inform the leader of the local Courtyard and let him know about these … crusaders for human rights,” Tansy said. “We can’t fight a war with this gang ourselves. It’s not a job for one human actress who can’t shoot straight and one panther aspiring to be a movie star. It’s a job for the law enforcement. And they need to get this whole group. That boy knows who I am.”  
“Thank you for rescuing me. Again.” Samantha glanced at her still unconscious companion. “Rescuing us.”   
“You’re welcome, Sam.”   
Samantha watched the streets rushing by the car window. “Where’re you driving? I thought your coop was on that hill.” She pointed.  
“It is,” Tansy said. “I’m driving you to the Sparkletown Courtyard.


	4. Dean

The Courtyard was a large fenced enclosure on the southern edge of the city, almost an hour drive from Tansy’s coop in the northern hills. She parked her car across the street from the entrance gates and disengaged the doors.   
Samantha stirred. “Are you coming?”  
“No,” Tansy said. “My feet are tingling. I don’t think I’ll be welcome just now. You should go in and tell them about the warehouse. Maybe your people could trace the other two shifters who have been sold already.”   
Her mouth felt sour just by shaping the hateful words. How could Dean’s associates sell the shifters as exotic pets? Did they really see them as animals? Probably. She winced and sighed. No, she didn’t think she would be welcome in the Sparkletown Courtyard.   
Samantha growled in renewed anger. The owl girl still slept.  
“Look,” Tansy said quietly, not certain her offer would be received with any warmth. “When you’re better, if you still interested in acting, you could come to the studio and watch us shooting the show. My next episode starts filming the day after tomorrow. I’ll add your name to the visitors list. If you wish …”  
“You would?” Samantha’s amber eyes glowed like stars. “I could come and see you acting?” Her smile faded a little. “Would I be safe? Could the others come too? All they wanted was to be actors. That’s why they answered that ad.” She glanced at the snoozing owl girl sprawled beside her the back seat.  
“Call me.” Tansy rummaged in her purse for her business cards and offered one to Samantha. “If anyone else wants to come, I’ll add them to the list too. I hope you’ll find the other shifters. I’m going to the police now.”  
“They won’t do anything,” Samantha said coldly.  
“We’ll see,” Tansy countered, now on surer footing. “It’s one thing if an unknown panther complains. It is another if a favorite human actress does so. I might talk to the press as well. This whole experience could produce at least a couple of articles in the gossip rags, and maybe a TV talk show appearance. Publicity is a good thing.” She grinned. “Maybe the police will find your shifter friends, if I make enough of a stink. Maybe they could cooperate with your leaders.”   
“Maybe.” The one-word reply dripped doubts. “Thank you, Tansy.” Samantha grasped Tansy’s shoulder for a moment before climbing out of the car with the owl in her arms.”  
“Take care,” Tansy said and drove away.   
As soon as she was out of sight of the Courtyard, she parked the car again. Before she went to the police, she needed to contact Dean. She didn’t want the boy in trouble. They worked together, and she rather liked him. She didn’t think he was a hardened criminal. More like a deluded teenager, recruited after his grandmother had been killed in that brutal and senseless way in the Midwest. So much mutual hatred … But if Dean was made to pay for his mistakes now by any of the opposing forces in this matter—be it the _terra indigene_ or the police or his ruthless recruiters—he would never be allowed a chance to redeem himself, to fix his blunder. She wanted him to have that chance. Sighing, she dialed her studio’s PA for Dean’s cell phone number. She hoped he was already awake from the tranquilizer she had shot him with.  
Dean picked up after ten or twelve rings, when Tansy almost gave up. “Hello.” He sounded vague and groggy.   
“Dean. Are you awake? It’s Tansy Margolis.”  
His voice sharpened. “You shot me. You stole the beasts.”  
“Pay attention, you idiot,” Tansy snapped. “The Others know about you and your friends. The police will soon know too. You can’t kidnap _terra indigene_ , sell them as pets, and expect no retribution. They are going to retaliate hard, and I don’t want you caught in the backlash. You have to get away from the warehouse now. I want to help you, but you alone. Not your mobster pals. Could you meet me downtown? I think you need to disappear for a while and I know the place for you.”   
“You want to help me?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“Because we work together,” Tansy said wearily. “Because I don’t think you’re one of the leaders of that insane enterprise.”  
“I’m not,” he muttered.  
“I hope you’ll never be caught again in the middle of such a crackbrained escapade. You know what the Others did in Cel-Romano.” Her anger and fear seeped into her words. “Do you want anything like that to happen here? Do you want Sparkletown reduced to ashes?”   
“No, ma-am,” he said humbly.   
“I only hope that me helping those Others in the cages would count for something.”   
He kept silent for a few moments, only breathed heavily. “I’m alone,” he said at last. “They sent me home. After they … slapped me some for my stupidity.”  
“Good. I want to slap you too, but I won’t. I’m being merciful.”  
“Yeah,” he said sourly.  
“Yeah! Don’t go home, Dean. Meet me instead. Can you drive? Do you have a car?”  
“I have my bike.”  
She arranged their meeting in an hour in a coffee shop they both knew and cut the connection. She had another stop to make before she met Dean: she needed to go to her bank and withdraw some funds. A boy like Dean, working in an entry-level position, probably didn’t have much money, and he would need money on the run.   
When she entered the coffee shop an hour later, he was already there, nursing a cup of coffee and looking miserable. His lip was cut, and a darkening bruise marred one of his cheekbones.   
Tansy bought coffee for herself and slid into a chair across from him. He acknowledged her with his eyes but didn’t speak.  
“Dean,” she said softly. The coffee shop wasn’t crowded, but there were people at the neighboring tables, and she didn’t want to be overheard. “My family has a summer vacation house in the Napa Valley. Nobody is there now. Go there. I’ll give you directions. The house is small, but it is fully stocked with provisions. It should last one man for at least a couple weeks, maybe longer. The food is dry stuff mostly and meat in the freezer, but you could buy fresh produce and diary in the village. Tell them you’re my guest, if anyone asks. But come up with a different name. Tell them you’re Dean James—there was an actor with a similar name years ago. Stay there until I call you. Don’t call anyone. Would you do that?”  
He nodded. “You think I’ll be in trouble here?”  
“Yes, I do. From both the police and the Others. And from your barmy bosses too.”  
“What about my job at the studio?”  
“You’ll find another job after. The studio would be the first place the police would look for you. They won’t look too hard—you’re obviously not a mastermind—but they will look. And so will the Others. You need to disappear until the furor dies down.”  
“I don’t have much money,” he said in a small voice. His dusky skin pinkened from embarrassment.  
“Here.” Tansy pushed the envelope with the bills across their small table. “You’ll repay me when you can. I don’t need it back soon.”  
“Thanks,” he mumbled into his cup.  
“Now the moment of truth. Did you tell your crooked mates my name?”  
“Yes,” he whispered and wouldn’t look her in the eyes. “Sorry.”   
“Fine. Now, tell me their names. I’m going to the police from here. Write them down.” She put a notebook and a pen in front of him. “The faster those jerks are caught, the safer you and me will be. Start writing.”  
He swallowed, picked up the pen, and started writing.   
“Do you want me to inform your family or someone special, so they wouldn’t worry?” Tansy asked as she put his list with five names in her purse.   
“No. I have no one,” he said. “Thank you, Miss Margolis.” He looked so young and pathetic her heart ached for him.   
“Stay safe,” she said. “I’ll call you. I hope it’ll be a lesson for you.”  
“Yeah,” he said.  
His bike roared to life before Tansy entered her car. Her visit to the police was equally upsetting, but for a different reason. She started her story with the gunshots outside her home the night before but didn’t mention Samantha’s rescue. In reciting her morning visit to the warehouse, she also omitted Dean’s name. If she could keep him out of the investigation altogether, she would. She wasn’t sure Samantha would be quiet about Dean, but perhaps the two lines of the investigation—the police and the Others—would never cross. Tansy didn’t believe either of the groups would share information willingly.  
“The young man recognized me before I shot him,” she concluded her story in her best Mazel’s falsetto. “But I found this list of names on the table there. I thought it might be important. Then I drove the panther and the other girl to the Courtyard and came here.” She batted her eyelashes at the middle-aged police detective, and the man smiled back right on cue.  
Then he frowned at her list. Obviously, her Mazel channeling needed more work.  
“Why would they have a list of their members written down?” he marveled aloud.   
Tansy couldn’t answer his logical question, so she sought refuge in Mazel again. “You think these are all the members of their organization?”  
“No way to know,” he said, still frowning.  
“If that young man shared my name with his cohorts, I might be in danger,” she chirped and shuddered convincingly. The shuddering didn’t require any acting on her part. Those ruffians knew her name. Dean had said so. She didn’t doubt for a moment she might be in a very real danger.  
“We’ll check it out, of course, Miss Margolis,” the detective said. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll protect you. But so far, nobody committed any crimes against humans, so my hands are tied.”  
Tansy narrowed her eyes at him and lied outright. “You think the Others would find those men? They have that same list. I gave it to them as well, when I drove the girls I rescued to the Courtyard. I’d feel much better if those brutes were arrested by the human police. The Others might have different ideas. They might eat the punks.” She smiled the Mazel’s vacuous smile. “The louts did commit crimes against _terra indigene_.”   
The detective started visibly at her words, and his expression turned grim. “We’ll check them out, Miss Margolis,” he promised again and accompanied her to the door of the police station.   
She wished she did give the copy of the list to the Others, but it was too late for regrets now. Hopefully, her bluff would work.


	5. Studio

A week later, Samantha still hadn’t called or visited the studio, although Tansy had dutifully added the Panthergard name to the visitors’ list on her first day of filming. After her harrying adventure, the girl had probably decided against a career in acting, and no surprise, Tansy thought cynically. The police hadn’t contacted her either, nor the bad guys had made any moves against her. The entire scrape had sort-of disappeared, except in her memory, but Tansy was reluctant to recall Dean back. Let the boy have a vacation at her expense.  
“Tansy,” her friend Ian hailed her in the snack room. Ian had a tiny recurring role in the show, about one episode in four. Tansy was always glad to see him.  
“You have time?” he asked as he poured coffee for himself.  
“Sure.” Tansy got her own coffee, and they both settled in a corner of the narrow cafeteria.  
“I’m going ahead with the charity show this year,” Ian said. “Are you in?”  
“Oh, yes.” Tansy’s lips stretched into a happy grin.   
For the past few years, Ian had run a charity project—a free live show for disadvantaged children during the winter school vacation. The only exception had been last year, after the Great Predation destroyed so much in Thaisia and decimated the Cel-Romano Alliance. Tansy had participated in each one of Ian’s initiatives. She was contractually obligated not to work for any other commercial project but _Coconut Boulevard_ for as long as the sitcom ran, but she could play in charity performances. And she did. And enjoyed it. Working with Ian was always fun.   
“What play have you selected this year?” she asked as she sipped her coffee.  
Ian fingered his napkin absently. “I was thinking of writing a play myself. I actually started something. It’s about a friendship between humans and Others. You know, to teach the kids how to behave, so the horrors like last year wouldn’t happen again. Maybe … I’m not sure it comes out the right way though. Still tinkering with the details. Would you mind reading it. I trust your judgement.”  
“Sure.” Tansy nodded. “Do you mind an idea? It’s something that happened to me, actually. Just last week.”  
“What?” He perked up. “What happened to you last week? Tell all.”  
“Okay.” Tansy told him about her meeting with Samantha and all that ensued.   
“That’s beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes glittering. “You don’t mind if I use this?”  
“No, go ahead.”  
“Thanks. Uhm. Listen, Tansy. Do you think you could get this girl panther to act in the show?”  
Tansy shrugged. “If she ever contacts me, I’ll ask her. It could be a good practice for her, if she didn’t chuck the whole idea of acting out the window after her experience with those loons.”   
“Could you go ask for her at the Courtyard? You saved her life after all.”  
“Ian!” Tansy shook her head. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”  
“I know, I know. Just an idea.” He glanced at his watch. “My scene should be up now. I have to go.” He jumped up and rushed out of the cafeteria.   
Tansy followed more slowly. She was already in costume for her next scene, but they wouldn’t be filming it for at least another hour. Could she really drive to the Courtyard and ask for Samantha? What would happen if she did? The worst outcome—the Others would say no. Probably. They wouldn’t eat her for asking, would they?   
She still contemplated the best approach to the Courtyard half an hour later, when a guard from the studio gates paged her.   
“Miss Margolis,” he said, when she called him back from her dressing room. “You have a visitor—Samantha Panthergard. It’s not a mistake, is it? She is on the list, but I wasn’t sure.”  
“No, no. I invited her.” Samantha came after all. Tansy smiled. “I’ll meet her at the door to the studio. I can’t go down to the gate—my episode starts filming in …” She glanced at her watch. “Half an hour.”  
“I’ll escort her to the door,” the guard said. He added after a moment, “She is in the human shape.”  
“Wonderful,” Tansy said.   
Samantha beamed when she saw Tansy. “You’ll show me everything, right?”  
“Welcome, my dear. I’m glad you came. Yes, I’ll show your everything, but not now. I have to be on set; my scene will start filming soon. You can look everywhere inside the studio, unless a sign says otherwise. When I’m done, in a few hours, I’ll give you a guided tour.”  
“Can I watch you filming?” Samantha’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. She looked like an exuberant kitten, ready to pounce on a rubber mouse. Her nose twitched. “So many strange smells here.”  
Tansy laughed and took her guest to the set.  
Later, when the director finally released her after a few grueling hours of filming, Tansy changed into her street clothing and gave Samantha the promised tour. The girl pelted Tansy with questions about everything.   
“I like your hat,” Samantha said at last. She was carrying Tansy’s hat box and sniffing at it. “I like all your hats.”   
“I have a collection at home. Have I shown it to your?”  
“No.”  
“Come visit me, and I will.”  
“Now?”  
“Yeah, why not.”   
They came to the exit door, and Tansy nodded to the guard on duty inside the studio. Everyone else had already left for the night.   
“But it’s late, Sam. Will you stay the night? Or could someone from the Courtyard come pick you up later?”  
“I’ll stay. Thank you,” Samantha said.  
They exited Tansy’s studio and started on the long curving walk towards the parking lot. Usually, it took Tansy fifteen to twenty minutes to reach her car. She had to navigate past two other large buildings—the other two studios. The light poles, spaced several meters apart along the sidewalk, looked like luminous islands in the endless sea of shadows. For once, it wasn’t raining, but the chill night air made Tansy huddle into her fleecy coat. Samantha, dressed in a sweat suit, didn’t seem to notice the cold.   
“So, Sam, tell me what’s been happening to you,” Tansy invited. “I expected you earlier. Has your wound heal okay?”   
“Oh, yes,” Samantha said, unconcerned. “We have been hunting those men from the warehouse. We caught three, but the other three are still free. We didn’t find the guy you shot, but I know his scent, and so do the others now. We’ll find them.”   
Tansy suddenly realized that Samantha didn’t know Dean had worked with her. Good. She would try to keep it that way.   
“What happened to the men you caught?” she asked softly.   
Samantha’s teeth abruptly lengthened to something that shouldn’t fit in a human mouth. She growled and turned away. When she turned back, her teeth were once again the normal size. “We asked them questions. Then we killed them. They were enemies.”  
Tansy shivered and rubbed her arms. “I talked to the police after I drove you to the Courtyard. I thought they would do something, arrest the perps, you know. Something … I didn’t think you would just kill them.” Her throat felt scratchy and tight.   
“I don’t know about the police,” Samantha said quietly. “Don’t be afraid of me, Tansy. Please. You smell of fear, but I’ll never hurt you. None of us will.”  
“I suppose I must be satisfied with that.” Tansy sighed. “What about the other shifters? The ones already sold. Did you find them?”  
“Yes. We rescued them.”  
Tansy decided to change the subject. “Do they or you still want to act in movies? Or in theater? Or did this misadventure erase your dreams of an acting career?”  
Samantha stopped under one of the streetlights. Her amber eyes gleamed. “I still want to act. The others do too. Would you have any … recommendations?”   
“Maybe.” Tansy thought about Ian and his charity. “I’ll tell you more on the way home.”  
They turned the last corner, and she pointed. “Here is my car.”  
The few cars left in the huge parking lot this late in the evening seemed lonely and desolate and far apart. Her car was the nearest one. She always tried to park as close to the walking path as possible. Tansy stepped towards her car and rocked to a stop at the painful buzzing in her feet. She gasped.   
“Did I forget something in the studio?” She couldn’t force herself to make another step forward. Her intuition screamed at her, and she made a hasty step back. Something was wrong with her car.  
Then Samantha sniffed loudly, grabbed Tansy’s hand, and started running back towards the corner, hauling Tansy after her.   
“Wait,” Tansy panted. “I can’t … so fast.”  
“Run!” Samantha yelled.  
They rounded the corner, and Samantha slammed Tansy to a wall, covering her slim body with her own larger one. A moment later, a loud boom rocked the parking lot, like an explosion in a movie. Did they film a thriller close by, Tansy wondered? She felt disconnected from reality, her head full of cotton but devoid of questions. Then something hissed and crackled, metal fragments clanged as they rained on the asphalt, and a reddish glow from the parking lot brightened the dim path beside them. Reality rushed back, but nothing else stirred. No voices. No screams.  
“What?” Tansy whispered.  
Samantha peeked around the corner. “Your car,” she said.  
Tansy swallowed and took a look from behind the protective bulk of Samantha’s back. Her car was burning.   
“My car,” she said. “Someone blew up my car.” She started trembling.  
“I caught a familiar scent,” Samantha said. “One of those men at the warehouse. I need to shift. Maybe I can still catch them.” She pulled her sweatshirt over her head.  
Tansy clutched at Samantha’s arm. “No. Please. Don’t leave me.” A sob shook her body, and she collapsed against the wall. “Please don’t go.”  
Samantha glanced at her and put the shirt back on. “Okay,” she said.   
They stared at each other.  
“I’ll just make a call.” Samantha pulled out her cell phone.   
“Where are the gate guards?” Tansy was suddenly frantic. “Did something happen to them? Because of me?” She pushed off from the wall, but her knees didn’t want to support her, as if her bones turned to noodles. She kept her dead grip on Samantha’s muscular arm to keep upright as she looked behind the corner again.   
A guard in uniform stood on the far side of the lot, his phone to his ear. “He is calling the police,” she said faintly. “I told the police I was in danger, and they didn’t do anything. They allowed those terrorists to go free, so the blackguards could blow my car.” Her voice rose to a screech. She didn’t feel so bad about the Others killing some of the hoodlums anymore. They should’ve killed them all. The vengeful musing helped to steady her. Somewhat.   
By the time three police cruisers, an ambulance, and a fire truck swept into the parking lot, Tansy was almost back to normal and ready to raise hell.  
Samantha clumped her hands over her ears. “I don’t like sirens,” she complained.   
“My car is totaled,” Tansy groused. She marched towards the closest police car. “I told you guys!” she yelled at the officer who got out of the cruiser. “I made my report a week ago.”  
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the officer said warily. “You have to calm down and tell me what happened. Is that your car?”  
“Yes,” Tansy snarled. She now had an audience of four police officers, and she milked her situation for all it was worth. She bawled. She pleaded. She accused. She wept, her obedient tears coming up the moment she needed them. It was the best performance of her life, and most of it wasn’t faked at all. In the end, the police gave her an escort home and checked her apartment for bombs and other hazards before they allowed her to enter.   
“We’ll keep a police presence around your coop for the next few days, Miss Margolis, until we catch the perps,” a police lieutenant told her solemnly before leaving her and Samantha alone.  
Tansy dropped into her sofa. Samantha, who had maintained a silent presence at her side all through the police questioning now crouched in front of her.  
“Tansy, are you okay?” she asked gingerly. “Can I do anything for you?”  
“No, thank you,” Tansy said dully. Tired after a full day of filming and the adrenaline rush on top of that, she felt small and wiped out.   
“I need to call the leader of the Courtyard.”   
“Of course,” Tansy said. “Go ahead, Sam. Sorry you got caught up in this circus. Some of it was for show. I needed them to pay attention. But most of it was real … unfortunately.”  
“It is my circus too,” Samantha pointed out.   
“Right. Tomorrow morning, when I’m thinking clearly, I might call the Herald and offer them an exclusive. It’ll spur the police into action even more. The pressure from the press and all that. Maybe a local TV channel too. And I need to call my insurance company. I need a new car. Damn! I liked that car.”  
“You’re amazing.” Samantha grinned and put her own phone to her ear to call the Courtyard.


	6. Toasting Actors

“I can play in a real theatre?” Samantha’s eyes shined in excitement.  
“Yes. Ian wants the real shifters to play the roles,” Tansy confirmed. She smiled at the girl’s pleasure. “It won’t give you any money—it’s a charity—but it’ll give you an experience. Real stage. Real public. Real actors.”  
“And you will be there too. I’ll play alongside Tansy Margolis.” Samantha couldn’t contain her elation anymore. She jumped up and started pacing across Tansy’s living room. She also purred; the deep throaty rumble oddly incongruous with her human face. “I’ll tell the others. I don’t know about the Wolfgard and the Owlgard, but Eric Panthergard wants to pursue this.”  
“There is another panther shifter aspiring to an acting career?” Tansy asked in surprise.  
“He is a lynx from up north. We liberated him from captivity. He was angry, of course, but he still wants to act.”  
“Maybe I could offer you guys an acting class?” Tansy mused. “Just for the shifters. I’ve never taught before, but I bet I could do it. Ian might write a play specifically for our class.”  
“Yes!” Samantha jumped, pumping her fists above her head.  
Tansy chuckled and sipped her wine. It was one of her cache of expensive wines from Cel-Romano, irreplaceable. She only had three bottles left. No more wines like this would ever be coming from there after the Great Predation, and the thought saddened her, but she ruthlessly suppressed her melancholy. She was alive. She had escaped her car’s explosion unscathed. It was the cause for celebration worthy of the unique wine.  
Samantha had refused the wine but gulped down her beer as she plopped back in her armchair. “Some young vampires might want to attend your class too,” she said absently. “I talked with a few people.”   
Tansy almost choked on her wine and hastily put her cut-crystal goblet down on the coffee table. The ruby liquid in the goblet sloshed and sparkled in the soft multicolored light of the torchiere with its stained-glass ornate lampshade.   
“Vampires?” she squeaked. Her heart accelerated. What was she getting herself into?  
Samantha, who had been gazing into the distance, probably envisioning her future acting stardom, turned sharply. “You don’t have to be afraid, Tansy. None of us would harm you or your friends. Ever. I promise. We’ll get those monkeys who had put a bomb in your car too, if the police do not. Our people are hunting them now. Their scent was strong in the parking lot, even if the police people muddied the trail somewhat.”   
“Thank you,” Tansy murmured. What else could she say? Just in case, to make sure Dean was still safe, she asked one more question. “Could you tell how many people were involved in that bomb in my car?”  
“Two,” Samantha said. “We’ll find them.”  
Tansy nodded and picked up her wine again. Dean was still hiding. Good for him. She would suggest he relocated to another town, even help him with the money. The boy had made a mistake. He should be given another chance, not hunted down and killed. Her mellow mood shifted to chagrin, despite her slight inebriation. Life for the humans in Thaisia was precarious, but she would deal. She had before, and so had her ancestors. They should all survive if they weren’t stupid.   
She could probably teach acting to vampires as well as the shifters. And why not? If they wanted a career in the arts, she was all for it. A theater exclusively for the Others? Maybe, it would be one of those things that could bring humans and the _terra indigene_ closer to mutual understanding. Maybe she could teach them compassion too. So another Great Predation wouldn’t happen again.   
She watched the rainbow light play among the facets of the elaborately cut crystal of her glass. The wine oscillated inside the glass like a living jewel.   
She lifted her goblet higher. “Let’s drink to our upcoming acting class, Sam. To the actors, whoever they are: humans, shifters, vampires.”  
“Yes!” Samantha exclaimed happily. Then she stared into her empty beer bottle. “I need another beer. I like beer. And after, you’ll show me your hats. You promised.”  
“Yes.” Tansy savored her tangy wine. “Of course. My hats.”  
The session of hats viewing and trying-on was predictably fun, as it always was for Tansy, especially with both Tansy and Samantha tipsy. They both laughed and clowned around and strutted in front of the mirror—an unexpectedly delightful conclusion to the trying day and the harrowing evening.   
Sam’s favorite was a revelation—a huge straw monstrosity with lots of fruits and ribbons and a faux gold fringe. Tansy had worn it only once, in the first season, to set the sense of the ridiculous for the series, but it looked surprisingly elegant on Sam’s taller figure. They finally stopped long after midnight, and Tansy went to bed still smiling.


	7. Bedroom Struggle

“Tansy, wake up.” Samantha shook her not too gently.   
“Huh?” Tansy’s eyes felt gritty. Her brain didn’t want to wake up. It was still dark outside; she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. She clutched her blanket and tried to go back to sleep. “Go away,” she mumbled.  
“Shhh!” Samantha hissed, and her large hand landed on Tansy’s mouth. “Someone is at the door, trying to pick a lock. They smell familiar.” She hauled Tansy out of bed, blanket and all, and shoved her into the dark hat closet. “Sit quiet. Don’t squeak. Don’t move. I’ll deal with them.” She closed the closet door without turning on the light.  
Dizzy with the lack of sleep but fully awake now, Tansy, wrapped in her blanket, huddled on the cold wooden floor between the shelves full of her hats. She shivered in the darkness and listened intently, but all she heard was her own hammering heart. She pushed one hand tightly against her lips to stifle a wail of terror. Samantha inside the apartment was utterly silent.  
It felt like an eternity, but was probably just a minute or two, when she finally heard someone stealthy footsteps in her bedroom, on the other side of the flimsy closet door. Then a quiet bang—a gun with the silencer. She flinched and clutched at her blanket in desperation, as if it would protect her from the gun. She didn’t make a sound, but she quaked incessantly and stared into the pitch-black darkness of the closet with unseeing eyes. In a moment, the killer would realize she wasn’t in her bed and open the closet door. And shoot her here, beneath her hat collection. A fitting end to a comic actress, she thought hysterically.  
But the killer didn’t open the door. Instead, she heard a thump, the brief sounds of a struggle, a single agonized scream, cut off by a muted roar. Then something nauseatingly wet, like flesh tearing apart. Tansy whimpered and swayed repeatedly, until the darkness in the closet penetrated her skull and absorbed her.   
She came to on her sofa, still wrapped in her blanket, Samantha in her human form, already dressed, on her knees in front of her. The Tiffany torchier beside the sofa was on, bathing the room in dim multicolored light. The door to her bedroom was closed. Samantha was caressing Tansy’s tangled hair and murmuring something senseless but reassuring. When she saw Tansy opening her eyes, she attempted a weak smile.  
“I called the police,” Samantha said. “And I called the Courtyard. They’ll be here soon.”  
“I fainted?” Tansy said helplessly. “I was so afraid.”  
Samantha nodded. “I know. These two won’t trouble you anymore. Only one is left.”  
Tansy gulped. She eyed the door to her bedroom uneasily. She was naked under her blanket. She had always slept in the nude. “I need to get dressed.” She attempted to get up, but Samantha’s strong hands pressed her back into the sofa cushions.   
“You don’t want to go to your bedroom now,” Samantha said. “Sorry.”  
Tansy’s breath caught in her throat. No, she didn’t want to go to her bedroom now, not after the sounds she had heard. It took her an almost inhuman effort to exhale and inhale again. To keep breathing.  
“We’ll clean it up,” Samantha said.  
She probably wanted to reassure Tansy, but Tansy just reached her limit. A keening howl tore out of her throat, and tears burned her eyes. She pulled the blanket over her head, hiding completely under it, curled into a ball, and sobbed noisily. She couldn’t stop.   
“Tansy, please,” Samantha murmured on the other side of the blanket, patting it awkwardly. “Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry.” Her hands withdrew for a few moments. Then she seemed to reappear, making vaguely comforting sounds. “I brought you clean clothes. You can get dressed,” she said.  
Tansy flung her blanket away, although her vision still blurred with tears, and her chest hurt from crying too hard. She sniffled. When she tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, her hands shook. She grabbed the clothes and hastily got dressed. She could already hear the sirens.   
Samantha watched her in wary silence.  
“You saved my life,” Tansy said unsteadily. Her voice seemed reedy, totally unlike the way she usually sounded. “The g-g-guy tried to k-k-kill me. He shot a gun.” The words stretched and mangled in her mouth; she couldn’t stop crying.  
Samantha nodded grimly. “Come in,” she called in reply to the voices and knocks at the front door. “It’s not locked.”  
The police flowed in. Most of them went into the bedroom, directed by Samantha, but one stayed at Tansy’s side and started asking questions.   
“I don’t know anything,” Tansy said sullenly. “Sam woke me up and shoved me into a closet. And shut the door. I didn’t see anything. I heard a shot and some thumps, and then I fainted. I woke up here, after Sam has already called you. Talk to her. She saved me twice today.” She draped her blanket over her head and refused to be bothered again.   
After a while, people stopped trying to pull the blanket off her, the din of voices and clanking and rattling in the apartment receded, and she dozed off in the warm protective cocoon of her blanket.   
The next time she woke up, it was already late morning, and only two distinctive voices rumbled quietly nearby. Tansy disengaged herself from her swaddling blanket and sat up, blinking at the bright light of day.   
Samantha and an unknown man sat at her dining table. The man, slim and much shorter than Samantha, sipped something from a mug, and an enticing aroma of coffee drifted from the kitchen.   
“Sam,” Tansy said hoarsely. Her throat hurt from all the crying she had done, but on the whole, she felt much recovered. Almost back to normal, if anyone could feel normal after two attempts on her life. She clambered to her feet and made her unsteady way to the kitchen, guided not as much by sight as by the tantalizing allure of coffee.   
“Thanks for making the coffee.” She poured herself a cup and drifted back to the dinette. “And for saving my life. Again. Sorry I dumped all the police on you earlier. I just couldn’t deal with them.”   
“You’re welcome,” Samantha murmured. “You saved me. I saved you. Seems fair.”   
Tansy sighed and settled at the table. She regarded the handsome swarthy man across from her with interest. “Would you introduce me to your friend, Sam. Is he that lynx who wants to act?”  
“No,” Samantha said. “This is Greg Sanguinati, the leader of the Sparkletown Courtyard. Greg, this is Tansy Margolis.”  
“Nice to meet you, Miss Margolis. I’m a fan.” He offered her his hand and smiled faintly, showing sharp dainty fangs.   
“A vampire,” Tansy said, smiling back in a signature Mazel grin, which flashed her excellent teeth too. “My, I keep an exalted company these days. I’ve heard it might be bad for my health, if I shake your hand. People say you could feed through the skin. I don’t want to risk it. I hope you’d settle for coffee.” She swallowed a mouthful of her own coffee and batted her lashes at the vampire.  
“Tansy!” Sam exclaimed in a horrified whisper, but the vampire only laughed.  
“Yes, your coffee is good,” he said. “But I wouldn’t feed on you after your shock anyway. Too much adrenalin is not good for my own health.” His lips curved.  
Tansy clutched her coffee mug with both hands and decided not to get baited. “Did Sam tell you about my offer to teach an acting class for your people, Mr. Sanguinati? Is that OK with you?”  
“Yes.” His slightly mocking expression petered off. “Do you have a location in mind. Could you teach your class in the Courtyard?”  
“Oh? I didn’t … Yes, I suppose, the courtyard would be fine. Do you have an appropriate venue, sort of a small auditorium? I would need a room with good acoustics. I thought the Courtyard is mostly nature.”  
“Mostly nature,” he agreed. “Acoustics? We have some office space and some living space. Not sure about acoustics.”  
“Office space,” Tansy echoed. “That is not the most appropriate site for an acting class. Most offices aim to dampen sound, not enhance it. I thought I would rent a studio in one of the community centers.”  
“Wouldn’t they mind _terra indigene_ students?”   
“I hope not, if the money is paid on time. Why would they? Business is business. Besides, they would deal with me, not my students.”  
He shook his head. “Sometimes, humans baffle me.”   
Tansy shrugged. “You could send a couple of bodyguards with the students, to ensure their safety. But you know that most of the Sparkletown didn’t hold with that horrible HFL movement last year.”  
“I know,” he said in a clipped icy tone. “I might take you at your word and send a couple of enforcers with the students.”  
“Do.” Tansy nodded and sipped more coffee.  
Samantha watched them both worriedly.   
“Of course, there is this current group,” Sanguinati continued. “The ones who advertised in the newspaper and then attacked you. There is only one man left of that group, but there might be more branches of the organization. After what happened with the HFL, we should be vigilant.”   
Tansy stared moodily into her coffee. Obviously, Dean was still in danger. Should she say something about him? Try to plead his case? Or would it be better to keep mum and wait this out, until the Others lost their interest?


	8. In the Doorway

At last Samantha stood up from the table. “We cleaned up your bedroom, Tansy, while you slept,” she said. “We should be going. There is only one thing left—a bullet hole in your pillow. I wasn’t sure what to do about it.”  
Tansy couldn’t suppress a snort. “Thanks, Sam. You don’t have to do anything. You’ve done great. I’ll buy a new pillow. Probable a new mattress too.” She also stood up, and Sanguinati followed suit.  
“Call me when you know the exact size of the group for the acting class,” Tansy said, as she trailed her guests to the door. “So I could book the appropriate location. And I’ll let you know about Ian’s charity project: when and where. You haven’t reconsidered, have you?”  
“No, I want to do it,” Samantha said firmly. Then her nose twitched as she sniffed. “I know—” she started, when the doorbell tinkled.  
Without thinking, Tansy opened the door. And grabbed the doorframe. Dean stood on her threshold, looking tense. When he caught the sight of Samantha behind Tansy, his eyes widened.  
“Miss Margolis.” He gulped and backed away from the door. “I saw on the news about your car. I was worried. I’m so sorry.”  
“He is the last of them,” Samantha snapped and grabbed Tansy’s shoulder to push her aside, her teeth already lengthening into the panther’s fangs. Panther’s triangular ears sprouted out of her hair.  
“No!” Tansy yelled. “Don’t touch him. Please, don’t hurt him.” She whirled to face the two Others inside her apartment, her back to Dean. She hoped he would take the hint and bolt. She planted herself firmly in the doorway. “Please,” she repeated softly. “He made a mistake by trusting those goons, but he is not a bad boy. He doesn’t deserve to die.”   
“He kidnapped Samantha and the others,” Sanguinati said.  
“He was hurting and didn’t know how to stop the hurt,” Tansy said. “That’s why he joined that crazy group. His grandmother was killed during the Great Predation last year. She lived in one of those Midwest towns that disappeared. She was over eighty years old and could hardly walk. She never hurt anyone, but your people killed her anyway. Dean loved her. He just lashed out. He knows it was a mistake, but if you kill him now, he would never get a chance to fix his mistake.”  
Her eyes switched between Sanguinati and Samantha, begging them both to understand and forgive.   
“He is the enemy,” Sanguinati said. His dark eyes sharpened.   
“He is a confused boy,” Tansy countered. “Not evil, just misguided.” She flicked a glance at Samantha, but Samantha looked fully human again, and detached, as if she wanted to let her Courtyard leader and Tansy determine Dean’s fate between them.   
“I saw this reportage on TV about the towns that disappeared in the Midwest,” Tansy went on, staring hard at Sanguinati. She knew she shouldn’t antagonize the vampire, but she was tired of playing a brainless little Mazel. She needed to be herself this once.  
“There was a sigh there, saying ‘We learn from you.’ But you learned the wrong lesson, Mr. Sanguinati. Don’t you see? You chose to learn from the murderers, from the dregs of humanity. They murdered your people, and you took them as your role models? Why would you not learn from the best of us instead? From good teachers? You showed us that you could learn cruelty. That’s easy. But that is not all humanity is about. There is kindness and compassion too. Forgiveness. Why wouldn’t you learn that? Because it is harder?”  
“You think we should forgive this youngster for hurting some of us? This monkey? His friends almost killed you.”  
“But not Dean. He never harmed me. His old grandma got eaten in retaliation for something a bunch of evil men had done. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t harm anyone, had nothing to do with any of it. The children in those towns didn’t deserve to die for the crimes committed by someone else. A few days ago, Dean and the others tried to retaliate for their deaths. Again. Now you go the same faulty road. More retaliation? Where does it stop, this endless loop of death?”  
“Why should we stop it, not the humans?” Sanguinati spat, his words sharp like glass, cutting.   
“Because you’re stronger,” Tansy said quietly. “You own this planet. You could afford merci.” She kept the eye contact with the vampire for a few seconds longer before she looked away. No point in needless challenges. If he wanted to think her weak, let him. She was weak, compared to him anyway, but she couldn’t back down. Her heart pounded inside her chest, her cheeks felt hot, and her mouth was dry, but she kept on pushing. Because a teenager’s life was at stake. “Please, leave him alone. He is not a danger to you and yours. You got the other five. Isn’t it enough for you?”  
“Destroying those towns wasn’t my choice,” Sanguinati said in a flat voice.   
“No,” Tansy agreed. “I know. But now, it is your choice: to let Dean live, give him a second chance, or to kill him.” She didn’t hear Dean behind her, but she didn’t dare turning away from the vampire to check on the boy. She couldn’t discern the vampire’s emotions either. His smooth face gave nothing away. Maybe the Others didn’t experience emotions the way humans did? How could she teach them acting, if their emotions were alien? She needed to do some research before starting her class. If she survived this confrontation…  
Finally, Sanguinati nodded. “He has one chance,” he said. “If he does anything against any of us again, he’ll die.”   
“Thank you,” Tansy said.   
“Thank you,” Dean breathed behind her back. He didn’t run away after all. The young fool.  
Tansy was still blocking the doorway, gripping the doorframe hard, but she didn’t try to prevent her guests from leaving anymore. She simply wasn’t sure she could stand without assistance now that the danger had passed. Her knees felt wobbly, her head light. Perhaps she should sit down.  
“Give me a moment,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “I’ll step aside and let you leave.”   
“You’re brave beyond belief,” Sanguinati said. He bent, picked her up, and carried her back to her sofa. “This young man is lucky to have you on his side.” He straightened. “Maybe we do have to learn something from you. Goodbye, Miss Margolis. I will probably come to your lessons too.” He whirled and was gone.   
Samantha, silent, went with him.   
Dean stepped into Tansy living room and closed the door behind him. “I owe you, Miss Margolis,” he said. “What should I do now? Go to the police? They would probably arrest me.”  
Tansy shrugged, too tired to be nice. “I don’t know, Dean. Just come back to work tomorrow and see what happens. I’m fine.”  
She leaned on the sofa back and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her apartment was empty. She glanced at the clock: not even noon yet. Three more hours before she was due at the studio for today’s shooting. She smiled. She would be Mazel again tonight. Much easier to be the daffy Mazel than herself, Tansy Margolis with principles. She clambered to her feet and shuffled to see the bullet hole in her pillow. And maybe try on some hats to cheer herself up.


End file.
